


The Swear Jar

by Bwg71



Category: Homeland
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Hope, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:39:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10059596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bwg71/pseuds/Bwg71
Summary: Prompted by the Bellevue Incident. Silly something that I had thought about writing a while ago... but that incident reminded me of this and I just had to write it.Warning: contains... um... lots of swearing.Mild spoiler for 6.06





	

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you would recall the "Fuck Me... umm, OK" fic prompt on LJ from a while back. Well, at the time my reaction to this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s7_zUMEOXTQ made me want to write part of this story. But I never got around to it. 
> 
> Last week's Bellevue Incident reminded me of this, and now I just HAD to write it.
> 
> Apologies for all the swears.... but hell, if you love Homeland I am sure the f-bomb doesn't worry you too much.

**The Swear Jar**

 

“Fuck me!!!” 

It comes from the kitchen, and perhaps it is a little too loud given the 5 year old ears within hearing distance in the adjacent room.

Fortunately, said five year old ears (and eyes) are fully absorbed by, no riveted to the very TV programme that prompted the expletive. 

Quinn leaves Franny for a moment and pokes his head into the kitchen “That’s one for the jar, Carrie” 

Franny calls to her friend, “Peter, Peter, you promised you’d watch _‘Yo Gabba Gabba’_ with me today.”

“Coming Franny” and then to Carrie “WHAT is that show? How the hell do they come up with that shit?” 

Carrie interrupts: “And one for the jar from you, too.”

Quinn continues: “And what the hell are those... characters? Especially the knobbly pink one… it kinda looks like a d-“ He’s interrupted by a flying dishcloth. Not used to kids’ TV, he glances bemusedly towards the living room where Franny is singing and dancing along to what Quinn thinks is the MOST ridiculous song he’s ever heard. With the five most ridiculous kid’s characters he EVER seen. He just has no idea what to make of it.

 _“We don’t bite our friends, we don’t bite our friends, we don’t bite our friends”_ blares out from the television.

 

“What the fuck? What the fucking fuck?” escapes Quinn, before he even realises he is saying it.

At the very same time Carrie slips with an even louder “fuuuck me!!!!”

 

Quietly, so the small ears don’t hear it, and in his patented sexy growl: “Carrie, you have to ask nicer than that… but” and he points “jar”

“Jar yourself!” Humpphfff. ” _‘Yo Gabba Gabba’_ really should be a special exception when it comes to the swear jar, Quinn. I’ve never seen anything so fucking annoying… I just don’t understand why Franny loves it so much… It does my head in, every time!” 

“I dunno Carrie, it IS a fair point that you shouldn’t bite your friends….”

Carrie almost chokes on the minestrone she is taste testing. “Shit Quinn. You do realise what you’re saying?”

When Quinn looks are her, puzzled, she reminds him “Remember that one time, at Bellevue, after the…. Incident. With the reporters and the unruly mob…. and I came to see you and you… well, you fucking bit me.” 

“Yeah, actually, come to mention it, I do remember that…. But in all fairness, I was hungry. The food in that place was goddamn terrible, and it’s rather hard to eat when you are shackled to a bed. Besides, I may have bitten you, but YOU shot me last year.”

“Well you fucking shot me!” She counters.

“You tackled me from the back!!” He takes a step forward.

“And YOU pinned me against a wall and hissed in my face to let you go!!!” She takes a step and gets in his face.

They’re nose to nose now.

“And YOU woke me up from a fucking coma!!!!”

“You’re very lucky I didn’t smother you with a pillow! It was THIS fucking close! Oh!!! Oops!!! Shit!! Did I think that, or say that?”

“Motherfucker!”

“I’m so sorry Quinn. They told me there was no hope. And that it was your worst nightmare…” She mutters to herself: “Fucking useless doctor… Fucking Dar.”

“It’s OK Carrie, I understand, OK?” and he takes her gently in his arms, reaches around and skims his hand slowly down her back towards her backside.

She starts to return the gesture. But doesn’t get far before she realises Quinn has instead gone straight to her back jean pocket and pulled out her wallet. He opens it and pulls out a ten dollar bill, drops it on the counter. “That’s for the fucking swear jar, Carrie,”

“And you owe it eight bucks yourself Quinn” she shouts as his back disappears into the living room. “You’re not exactly Mr Manners here yourself, you know.” Carrie plonks the jar down on the kitchen bench, pulls off the lid, pops the money in and mutters “Jesus, at this rate Franny’s going to have that new bike in no time. Fuck me!”

Quinn’s head pops around the corner again: “I heard that. Two more dollars.” He grins wickedly. “And actually, I think I just might, later.”

 

The end

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone is welcome to write part 2 :)


End file.
